Barricades and Baguettes
by YourPontmercyFriend
Summary: Inspired by the web comics Darths and Droids and DM of the Rings, this takes Les Miserables and tells it like its a bunch of people playing D&D. Diverges a lot from the actual plot and is extremely silly. Les amis. Crack. E/R. Enjolras Grantaire Feuilly Joly Bahorel Bossuet Courfeyrac Combeferre Javert Valjean Eponine Marius Jehan


Dungeon Master: It is France, post revolution, in chaos from the event that would inspire revolts over a hundred years later. The country is in turmoil, practically at war with itself. The people are starving and poor while-

Valjean sighed heavily. "Look, dude, we all took history in high school. We get it. The country is France, therefore they're angry and fighting about something. Moving on."

Dungeon Master: Brevity is the soul of wit, I get it. Anyway, you are poor and starving and have your sister's family to feed.

"This is one sucky exposition." Valjean aimlessly wandered around town and stopped in front of a bakery. "Okay, I need food. Here is food."

DM: You're broke.

"Of course I am. Do I need to roll to break a window?"

DM: What? No, I suppose not, but-

Valjean punched through the storefront window and reached in to grab the loaf of bread in front of him. He took it, cutting himself on the glass, and took off running.

Town guards saw him and ran after him.

DM: You're under arrest.

"Can't I grapple these guys?"

DM: You're a low level bard and they're soldiers. So not really.

"Why are we all at least one level of bard again?"

DM: Because it's funny.

"Whatever. Can't I try? See? I rolled an 11."

DM: You stepped on a guys foot and got a rib broken, nice going.

"The sentence for stealing is five years," said one of the guards.

"WHAT?" yelled Valjean. "Oh my god what the hell? You didn't say we were playing Skyrim, it's a stupid loaf of BREAD."

DM: Could you stay in character for just one minute?

"I'm hungry. My poor family. I'm devestated. Oh no."

DM: Very good. So, you're dragged off to work camp...

"Wait, where I'm gonna level up and not be a bard, right? I can live with that."

He struggled but eventually gave in and let himself be arrested. The loaf of bread fell to the ground as a grim reminder to the town of the dangerous thief who broke a window.

DM: You go to prison for twenty years, in which you meet-

"Bullshit. You just said five years! Also I haven't even leveled myself up yet or anything. Making us all start out as bards for your comedic pleasure is so dumb. Why are we expected to all be able to sing in a country full of poverty and violence?"

DM: You tried to escape, so you got another fifteen years. You meet Javert, a prison guard. He was supposed to actually have been your partner since I had you on a lawful path to join the military and crap but you kind of derailed that so now he's your nemesis of sorts.

"This could be us but you playin'", said Javert, walking in step towards Valjean with another guard with a piece of paper in his hand.

DM: Stop.

"Sorry," said Javert. "Can I intimidate this guy?"

"I'm a barbarian. If anything, I'm going to intimidate YOU," corrected Valjean.

Javert unfolded the paper and said, "This is your criminal passport. You must check into these cities I can't pronounce at whatever time this says you need to or I'll come and kill you. Clear?"

DM: Maaaaaaybe I should've had you stay as an NPC. Especially since you won't even be with the rest of the party for the majority of this game. Man, this got derailed in record time.

"No, this guy's a ranger! I'm not missing out on that," said Javert.

DM: If you refer to yourself in third or second person or whatever that was again I'm going to quit.

"Javert doubts that."

"Hey," said Valjean. "Can I go now? I think the exposition should be kind of over by now."

DM: Actually we have a lot to go. You go out into the world and are rejected for work everywhere. Then you meet a kind old bishop who offers you food and a bed and treats you like a person.

"I love this guy."

DM: You're still broke and have no hope of work but the bishop leaves a conveniently unlocked cabinet of silver in your room.

"Wait, what?"

Valjean laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling in thought. "So I'm supposed to be on the right track on life but I meet this guy who's super nice and I'm just supposed to steal again? Not even food but precious metal? That's so wrong! I stole a loaf of bread and now I guess I have to act like an asshole for the rest of my life?"

DM: Um. How do I put this. You're a role player. I kind of thought you'd be looting everything ever with no thought.

Valjean groaned. "It's not unjustified if you had to fight for it! But okay, easy silver it is."

He slowly got out of bed and took care to not make the floorboards creak too loudly. The cabinet opened silently and Valjean piled the silver in the bag and successfully made it out of the house and gate.

DM: Spot check.

"I am momentarily blinded, apparently," said Valjean. "I got a 4."

DM: Guess who just got sneak attacked, knocked out, and arrested.

"That's brutal."

DM: Says the unconscious body. It would have been a bit different had you gotten over a ten.

"Uuuuuugh."

DM: In the morning, you are brought before the bishop with the stolen silver.

"Hold up."

Enjolras ran his fingers through his golden hair and laid his head on the table.

"The rest of us come it at 1832? How long is this going to take?"

"Yeah," added Courfeyrac. "This seems pretty nuts to just follow Valjean around for years while the rest of us have drank two cases of Mountain Dew and rolled up our characters already."

DM: Well, important things happen for the plot.

"Yeah, I bet," said Eponine. "But couldn't you just tell us?"

Bahorel yawned and stretched out over his end of the table. "Believe me, having us watch this isn't going to make us care more than if you just told it."

DM: Do you all really just want me to throw some dice and speed through this?

"YES!" chorused the whole group.

DM: Okay, here it goes.

The bishop pardons Valjean and he goes off with the silver plus two candlesticks. -dice roll- He brings prosperity to a town and runs a factory and becomes mayor. Then a factory worker named Fantine -dice roll- uh oh, loses her job, sells her possessions, sells some of her teeth, becomes a prostitute, and gets tuberculosis is arrested by Javert but Valjean takes her to the hospital where she informs him that she has a child with a couple of innkeepers in a town a ways away. But actually before that-

"Even this extremely condensed explanation is taking forever. Just skip ahead." Feuilly tossed his third can of soda into the recycling bin and rubbed his eyes. "Please?"

DM: Okay. The innkeepers are jerks. -dice roll- Valjean buys Cosette off of them. He then runs and hangs out in a convent for years so long as he doesn't die when he's buried alive -dice roll-. Then they emerge and move to Paris and you guys come in. Also Javert is chasing him all over and -dice roll- does not catch him. That's only about a third of what happens but we'll leave it at that.

"That doesn't sound like good times for Javert," commented Javert. "Since I have a level in bard can I sing a song and inspire myself?"

DM: You're level one bard so you didn't get any really good feats or abilities.

"Can I sit on a roof and make myself sad?"

DM: Yes.

Combeferre laid two pistols out. "Alright. Where do we meet up and how do we start."

"I hope it's not a tavern or an inn," muttered Grantaire.

DM: Two things. One, you all meet at a café. Two, why do you people have guns? There are no guns in this game!

"There are now, since you set this thing in 1800's France," said Combeferre.

DM: No. In this universe they use crossbows. Crossbows all the time and everywhere. And magic.

"Why did you set it in a place where you knew you were going to be extremely inaccurate?" demanded Feuilly.

DM: YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT ACCURACY. YOU'RE MAD ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO SHOOT THINGS.

Combeferre shrugged and replied, "Well YEAH."

"Hey," said Courfeyrac. "Do you wanna fuss about bending the rules? Enjolras's character sheet says he's a warlord."

DM: What? No, the closest you're going to get to being a warlord is actually being a bard, if you're going for inspiring people and everything."

Enjolras groaned, "Damnit. Fine. I'll make everything bard on here but it'll still say warlord. I wrote that in pen."

Courfeyrac whistled as he looked at Enjolras. "Damn. You have an 18 base for your charisma, plus your human bard bonus. Your stat bonus is +5. Holy shit."

"I pop a boner that lasts forever," announced Grantaire to the entire room.

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. "You disgust me. We have an oppressive society to fight and you're thinking about your dick."

"You look like a child of Aphrodite. Yeah I'm gonna notice you."

Courfeyrac looked at Grantaire. "You're at a -1 charisma. That's rough buddy."

DM: Hey wait, you're fighting against the crown?

Everyone nodded.

DM: You're all going to die.

"Really?!" blurted out Bahorel. "I had no idea that might happen when you were like 'lol they should all know how to sing so I'm gonna make them bards'."

DM: If you're so upset about it then you don't have to have a level in bard, okay?

"Thanks, I'll edit myself out of that mess."

"But," said Bossuet. "We don't have to die. Why don't we go and get stronger before fighting the whole national guard?"

DM: Are you seriously going to go out into the countryside to kill things?

"Sounds about right," said Bahorel.

"Anything for the cause," added Enjolras.

DM: Wow. Okay. None of you are allowed to be good. Only neutral or evil.

Joly frowned. "But I'm a cleric. I don't kill things."

"Yeah, and I'm a paladin," said Combeferre.

DM: It was a joke, because no one pays attention to their alinements whatsoever for the entire time they play.

"I want to know how a hypochondriac cleric works," said Feuilly. "No offense Joly, but shouldn't you know you're completely healed at all times?"

DM: I have more plot to cover and if has to do with Marius. On the battlefield of Waterloo-

"No, this isn't France anymore," said Combeferre. "So it couldn't have been Waterloo."

DM: FINE. AT THE SKIRMISH OF FIRETOILET-

"That is the best thing you've said all night but PLEASE no more backstory now," pleaded Eponine.

"Why can't we just go and get ourselves leveled up and such right now?" asked Courfeyrac.

"Because our wizard has been reading the spell compendium for an hour and still isn't done," replied Jehan with a glance at Marius. "Man, if Enjolras can't be a warlord I probably can't be an alchemist, huh? You should've specified that we weren't allowed classes that are in updated editions."

DM: I have to prepare all of the dungeons and monsters and crap for you guys to run into next time so I think we're done for tonight.

Marius sighed. "Hopefully I'll be done selecting my spells by then."

Courfeyrac fiddled with a d20 and said, "Dude, how is this taking so long? I'm a sorcerer and I got done in five minutes."

"That's because all you have to do is say you want magic missile and some elemental garbage and you're done! I have to select a ton of these and how many uses per day and-"

"Geez okay!"

DM: Settle down. Well, if you all are postponing the rebellion then I guess Javert and Valjean get to just play XBox next time. So next week have you characters done the RIGHT way and be ready to hear some more backstory.

"Ah yes. The Skirmish of Firetoilet," giggled Joly.

DM: Yeah. That.


End file.
